Ten Years Later
by GitUrCray-On
Summary: One-shot, Brienne POV after the battle with the dead.


Brienne woke with a severe case of knee-to-the-kidney and turned over to gaze at the face of the only person in her life that made her question the title of ugliest woman in the world. He shared many of her features: the pale, blonde curls; the large blue eyes- she knew they were there hiding under those long, fair lashes that were also hers; his high cheekbones; the freckles that bloomed under the sun all over his fair face… all her, and on the boy they were beautiful. His mouth, though, that mouth was his father's and sometimes it stole Brienne's breath to see him in profile and it'd take her back in time. Oh, that mouth. She had the tendency to reminisce during these moments when it was quiet and she stared at the boy as he slept beside her; her son, Jaime's son, her and Jaime's son.

He'd been still damp from his birth when she first noticed how he had his father's mouth. She'd chuckled in spite of herself as she offered the baby her breast for the first time and he'd seized her with both hands, eyes nearly crossing as he sized up the feast and then, shaking his head like a tiny lion cub, latched and tried to shove as much of her flesh into his mouth as possible before he began to suckle. Yes, he had his father's mouth, indeed.

It'd been another two moons in King's Landing before Brienne had realized that there was a reason to be concerned about her lack of blood. There'd never been cause for concern before and it wasn't uncommon for Brienne to miss her blood after a particularly rough fight, or improper diet, or otherwise significant stress on her body. It wasn't surprising to her that the battle against the dead would have been enough to frighten her body into holding on to any blood that the wights didn't take. Then the quickening had begun and she could have kicked herself for being so stupid. _Fucking Jaime Lannister._ It wasn't like her to curse, however, there was something about Jaime that had always brought out the expletives. She knew he wasn't all to blame, she had chosen, she had taken that moment and given herself that experience because she wanted it… she had wanted him… and she was not sorry about it. Fuck him she had, many times, in fact, between that first night and the twenty-three days that followed before he tried to sneak away in the middle of the night.

She'd felt it in her soul and knew with no doubts she was carrying his child and while Brienne had always been rather intelligent, she struggled to do the simple math… nearly a month in Winterfell with Jaime, another month before they'd heard of the destruction of King's Landing, nearly a month on the journey south, now perhaps two that they had been trying to settle and rebuild the city. Five months perhaps, yes, that would make sense, five months and she felt the small movements from inside. Yet, she said nothing to anyone, obsessively examining her own reflection for the first time in her life for changes in her body. Her activities during the day generally kept the child calm, however, each night as the weeks passed, the gentle kicks grew stronger and Brienne was terrified she would wake in the morning to find her belly had grown overnight. But, it didn't. Nude, she could detect a difference in her frame, her once flat belly now slightly curved, as if she was taking a deep breath after eating a large meal… only the roundness didn't deflate upon exhale. In her armor, though, or even without the armor, no one was the wiser. She'd selected her clothing carefully, to make her look larger than she really was, her height was imposing, but she wasn't nearly as thick as she appeared when dressed in her heavy quilted garb.

Brienne went about her duties as she always would have, perhaps being a bit more willing to delegate training sessions to Pod, and she gave very little thought to actually having to deliver the child that grew within her… until the day came she was forced to consider the birth. She was checking her horse's hoof when it happened, a strange, almost audible popping sensation somewhere near her core and her heart stopped for a moment. Then, very quickly, her breeches soaked with warm fluid. She released the horse's leg, calmly informed the stable hand that she was feeling unwell and asked him to please finish checking the horses and be sure to feed and water. She'd made it nearly to the spacious quarters King Bran had assigned her, when the first of the pains rolled through her. She was not stranger to pain of different sorts, but this was unlike anything else, not even the Hound's well-placed kick between her legs came close, and Brienne was slightly horrified at her need to brace herself against the wall for a few breaths.

In her chambers, Brienne moved slowly though diligently, removing her outer clothing… thankful that through the surges of pain. Donning an older, lightweight nightgown Brienne sipped some water and tossed the large oiled cloth she'd procured to the floor along with several old, but clean blankets. Then she knelt at the fireplace and urged the cinders into a small, but healthy fire. She found being on her hands and knees relieved some of the agony in her back and stayed there… for how long she had no idea, nor did she care. The pains kept coming, squeezing tight around her belly and hips, radiating to her thighs as she rocked on all fours and moaned softly as night fell.

Finally, kneeling on the floor and head resting on her forearms propped at the edge of her bed, she felt the child move down and was overcome by the urge to push. Brienne battled with herself to keep from crying out and was almost succeeding when the baby began to crown. The intensity sent Jaime's name falling from her lips in nearly a wail without her permission. She didn't know how much longer later, but there was a crash behind her and suddenly her doorway was filled with Podrick, Bronn, Tyrion, Ser Davos, Maester Samwell, and Gilly, who was holding her and Sam's newest child. Only Gilly moved, handing her own infant to his father, who accepted him wordlessly. Five mouths hung agape as Gilly took charge, speaking firmly but gently to a panicked Brienne. Brienne felt like she was losing what little sanity she had left, but Gilly took her hand and guided it down, _there, Lady Commander, that's your baby, push._

It could have been seconds, minutes, or hours, Brienne couldn't tell, but with a sudden rush, there it was… there he was… red and wet and wailing. Gilly prodded Bronn and Pod into helping Brienne to stand just long enough to sit on her bed and then lay back against a pile of pillows. Brienne brought the squalling newborn to her face, and his wails turned to softer mewls as he reached for his mother's face. She was kissing his tiny fingers when King Bran appeared at her bedside and placed his hand on the baby's still damp head: _Lord Lionel of Tarth, son of Ser Brienne of Tarth, rightful heir to Evenfall Hall and the people and lands of the island Tarth. _Then his attendant wheeled him from the room, the weight of his words settled and Brienne realized that the Three-Eyed Raven had just legitimized the child… and named him.

Lionel… the name suited him and it wasn't as though Brienne had any other ideas as to what to call the child. Lionel tied him to Jaime, the father he'd never meet, but he was legitimized as the heir of Tarth… Brienne's heir. Brienne sighed and brought herself back to the present, where the child now approached his tenth name day and was now stirring awake.


End file.
